Lyrics

OPAL

Observe the stratum stir
Smooth, a svelte black blur
It moves and closer to my open pour
Giving rise to this dulcet war
I felt the felt slide down
Swooned, and I?m naked now
It warns, there is no boon and I awoke
The opal moon had turned dark taupe
I?ve grown mold
I?m old at the tips but I?ll get better
What about you
I?m blown cold
Torn on the crooked fold
Piece myself together again
Slither back into my stall
I am within its thrall
It soothes and none too soon
Sink through the floor
And fall into epochs of yore
You are an onyx charm
I wear when I disarm
Restored, we?ve washed ashore
And we slowly cede
Into newly formed cacophony
I?ve lost hold
I got blood on the bits but I won?t wither
What about you
In my wold
No tirade is left untold
But none of them even matter
Are you one of the ingrates
You all look the same
Slurred and high off the intake
You forget your place
Are you one of the prostrate
That lay out the blame
Spurned, you puff up and deflate
But you look the same
Are you one of the magnates
That fill up the frame
Floored, I dig into the outbreak
And create my bane
Nosedive under the floodgates
Come up on the blade
Cured, I shrug off the ingrates
And rest my case
I?ve grown mold
I?m old at the tips but I?ll get better
What about you
In my wold
No tirade is left untold
But none of them even matter

Lyrics by Erik Heimann © 2006